Gallery
by fakeskyline
Summary: This is the story of Darcy, a new inmate at Arkham Asylum, and her strange little adventure into the world of insanity and love. OCxScarecrow/Joker/Riddler/Croc/Zsasz/OC
1. Chapter 1

My parents didn't even attend my trial. I'm their only child and they didn't even bother to go. Okay, sure. Maybe I'm now a disgrace, but still. I'm their flesh and blood. So now I walk into Arkham Asylum in Gotham City entirely alone in the world. An orphan. With no family to care about me and no friends to even remember me. Of course, it is easy to forget someone who's been gone for four years. I've been living by my own rules and now I just have to let society drones parade me through their little routine. Search. Paperwork. Health inspection. Then I'm placed in a room that has a bed, toilet, window covered with bars, and a rather obvious two-way mirror. I've been told that this is only a temporary room. There's probably shrinks on the other side evaluating me, writing down my every movement. What am I even expected to do? I sit on the bed and just stare into the mirror, hoping a doctor has their eyes locked on mine.

An hour passes. A day passes. A week, month, or eternity passes. Or maybe just a minute. I wouldn't know. But the doctors would. Which is why at some point one of the white coats comes into the room. Her hair is about a foot tall and her eyeliner isn't nearly close enough to her eyes. She looks like an alien.

"Hello Darcy, I'm Doctor Nolin." Pause. "As a new patient I'm here to interview you, get to know you a little better, so we can make your experience here at Arkham a pleasant and successful one." She smiles. So fake. And then she begins with boring questions about my family, things I like, things I don't, that sort of thing. Then she asks me something that surprises me. "Could **you** describe for me what actions have sent you here?" How can that be one of the normal questions? I can just imagine some of the loonies going crazy at this. Maybe even offering to demonstrate. But hey, a question's a question and I'm going to answer it. Full cooperation and maybe I'll get out of here some day.

Generic answer. "Yes. Well. I was tired of it all." More insight. "Robots. Boring routine. Wasted life." Opening statement. "It feels good to live by your own rules." The warning. "And I don't really like you." And now my rise to action. I leap at Doctor Nolin and pull on her hair. She screams and guards have already run into the room. I twist her hair around my left hand and still manage to kick her a bit as the guards pull me off of her. Okay, my good behavior can start up later. What fun is life without a little risk? Once another doctor helps her out of the room, one of the guards lets go of me and stands up. The other guard and I are still on the floor, him holding onto me tighter than a lover. And the other guard winds his leg back and kicks me. Again and again. And I can do nothing.

"Teach you a lesson," he huffs as he continues kicking me over and over again. Then when I'm sure my body's just going to turn into goo he leans down and pulls me up by the hair. I gasp out in pain and stared wide-eyed at him. "Welcome to Arkham."

* * *

After my_ welcoming_, the guard who was holding me escorts me to my cell – likes it's more of a prison than a place to get rehabilitated. Then again, I am in the more _criminal _unit. The whole time he has one hand clenched around my right arm. All of these guards are in full-riot gear. Maybe there's always a riot. But behind every door, in every corner, is a guard. And they all look the same: all black. Black pants, shirt, and boots. And a helmet covering their heads. All I can ever really see of these guards are their eyes and all of their eyes look black from the shadows. They could all be clones for all I can see. Finally we enter a larger hallway that has a catwalk above it and cells all around. All of them with thick walls and bars for the doors. I finally get drug to a nothing-special-about-it cell that already has somebody in it. Without saying a word, the guard just throws me in and locks the door. No explanation. Nothing. And he just walks off. I feel _so_ welcome.

"Hi there!" says the other person in the cell. She's a skinny, blond woman. "I'm Harley! Welcome to the asylum. As a part of the adapting process you get me: your guide." Then she beams at me. "So what's your name?"

"Darcy."

"Oooh Darcy. I like that! Too bad ya got here so late, though. It's just about time for lights out."

"How can you tell?"

"Internal body-clock, I dunno. But you can always tell when the next _something's _gonna happen, because the guards swarm more than usual."

"Mmm hmm. And do you know exactly what _time_ lights out is?"

"Well it's been a couple-uh years since I worked here, but it used to be eleven o'clock in the Intensive Treatment."

"**You** worked here?"

"Yup, I was a regular ol' white coat...'til I met Mistah J." Suddenly her whole demeanor changed. I felt like if I got close to Harley she would burn me from the...fire...burning in her heart that made me think of someone melting. And her eyes...it was a strange look seeing that pure love. Everything about her screamed "I'm crazy about him!" And suddenly, for the first time today, an emotion other than anger and angst found its way into my being...jealousy. Longing.

"And how does he feel about you being locked up in here?"

"Don'tcha know who my puddin' is? Jeez you must really be outta the loop."

"Well, maybe if you told me his name I might recognize it."

"The Joker."

"That's not a name."

"Well it's what my puddin' goes by. He ain't got another name."

"And either way, I'm not exactly sure who he is. That title seems familiar."

"You crazy?! My puddin's famous!"

"Meh. Maybe famous to you. Maybe famous here. But I'm not from Gotham and I never really kept up with the news, other than my own. That's about it."

Harley looked thoughtful for a minute before leaping up to the top bed. Didn't matter to me where I slept. I sat down on my bed with my legs hugged to myself and my back to the rough wall. I could tell that Harley doing something, but I didn't really care what. I don't know for how long I sat before there was suddenly darkness. Well, not total darkness; no light in the actual cell, but a dim light was still visible from where the guards were keeping watch. At that point I decided to lay down. I couldn't imagine sleeping here, but what could I do? This place was horrifying and I had no clue if Harley would try to kill me in the night. But that wouldn't be all too bad, considering that I was already in Hell. Reluctantly I relaxed my body and slowly let everything fade away until there was nothing left but the darkness that seemed to eat time.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Sorry for the excessive amount of time that it took for this second chapter to come out. I've just been a tad wrapped up in my own emotional issues. Anyways...Here's the second chapter that's been pieced together over the past 7 months. And thanks for all of the reviews!

* * *

The next morning I wake up to Harley in my face. I want to punch her, but decide against it. We eat breakfast in our cell. She informs me that dining hall privileges were for the loonies that were less of a threat.

"Yeah, it's the level below ours. Y'know, Mistah J used to be in this level and I used to be in that one. But he escaped and well...I threw a little tantrum. So I got sent back up here. And if he comes back I either gotta move a level down or he's gotta be the next level up cuz they don't want him and I in the same area." She sighed. "Like Romeo and Juliet."

And as cheesy as that was, again, I felt that pang of jealousy. After we ate we had some more time just to sit in our cell. I spent it just sitting on my bed remembering all of the fun that I'd had that had sent me here. What else were you supposed to do here other than get lost in your own thoughts? They needed more distractions...it just didn't seem safe in a place like this for people to be getting lost in their thoughts. Eventually we were let out of our cell, though with our hands cuffed behind us. Harley explained to me that now we got time in the Rec Room. The room was about the size of a classroom and had several chairs. There was a spot for board games and a cupboard that was chained up. In one of the corners near a chair I found something that interested me: a bookcase. I scanned through the titles and decided on Catcher in the Rye. I was surprised that the books actually weren't too ripped up or anything. I guess people here don't care much about reading. It's a shame. An hour or two later, before I knew it, Harley and the rest of the loonies we were with were rounded up to be returned to our cells. I hadn't of really even noticed the other four loonies with us. After that it was shower time, back to the cell, supper, then lights out. The next day was the exact same. And the next.

It wasn't until about a week later that something changed. Harley and I ate breakfast together, as usual, and went to the Rec Room. As usual. I finished the book I was reading and went on to yet another book. After what I believe was the two hours we got to be in the Rec Room we were rounded up as usual. It was then that something seemed off to me. After I let a guard re-cuff me a more official looking security guard came for me and took me to the office of a Dr. Ratliff. The doctor looked like Dr. Phil, only with more hair, which amused me. The guard stood by the door and the doctor motioned for me to move further into his office. It was then that I noticed that there was also a lanky guy sitting on a couch. He was in Arkham duds, but unlike me he wasn't in a jumpsuit. Or handcuffed.

"Miss Wright, it is a regretful event, but I must inform you that Miss Quinn has escaped Arkham. Since you will now be in need of a new guide, we have found you a substitute. Mr. Crane has gladly offered to be your guide. Due to level and gender differences I am afraid that you will have to be moved to a different cell. You've been behaving rather well, so I see no problem moving you to Jonathan's level. It's actually a step up, but what's home is home isn't it? Though, I guess you hadn't of really had enough time to get used to your cell. Ah, a topic for a later time! I'll let you go get comfortable and acquainted. And you will begin your therapy tonight. Jonathan?"

"Yes, Mr. Ratliff." The lanky guy from the couch got up and walked over to me. "Hello. Darcy, is it?" He waited for a reaffirming head nod. A good sign. Some people ask that question then just go right on talking whether they were right or not. Annoying. "My name is Jonathan and as has already been explained, I'll be your guide for now. Let's get to our cells. I'm sure you'll be liking your new one far more."

Jonathan led me out into the hall and the guard followed right behind. "So, what do you think of Arkham so far?"

"It sucks. It feels more like a jail. And Harley..." I growled. "She is the most annoying _thing_ that I have ever met. Her escaping is no loss to me."

He smiled. "You don't wish she was here? She's the only person you've talked to."

"Chh. If you call that talking. Her bouncing around and me giving her just enough of a response to stop bothering me. If you're wondering if I'm afraid of the big, bad asylum without her, no. I'm not."

"What are you afraid of?"

"Nothing."

"Oh really? Not afraid of the dark or dying alone?"

"Nope. Fears just hold you back. I'm stronger than that."

"Hmm...interesting."

"If you say so."

They walked along in silence for a bit before they got onto an elevator. Jonathan pushed the "3".

"Right now we're on the fourth floor, which is intensive treatment. The fifth floor is for severe cases. Think of them as levels. 1 is perfectly sane and 5 is entirely insane and dangerous. The sixth floor is solitary confinement. And the first floor is just more of an administrative area, hence 'perfectly sane'. Or so they'd like to think." He flashed me a grin and it was then that I realized that he was handsome. "They're just afraid of realizing what they really are, so they keep the most 'insane' the furthest away from them. It's kind of funny, actually."

When the doors of the elevator opened I couldn't help but gasp. This floor could have been a whole different building. Instead of looking like a horrible jail, this looked more like a nice hospital. I followed Jonathan and took in the colors and the light. It was wonderful. I never realized how comforting it would be to be back in what most of society would consider pleasant. I guess they had good reason. Another noticeable change was that there were less guards in this area. Far less. It was a little less disconcerting. A few rooms in Jonathan pointed out his cell and just one away was mine. It was such an improvement from the closet cell that I'd had to share with Harley. There was actually walking space. And a window! I'd missed sunlight.

"Why's there no door?"

"Look at some of the other cells."

So I did. My cell was wide open, but those with people inside had glass or some sort of clear surface covering the opening. Even less privacy. But still, comfort. Suddenly the guard spoke. "It might be a little early, but you can take her to supper," and with that he removed my handcuffs and walked away. I was really taken off guard (literally, hah!), but was soon thankful for this extra freedom. Then I felt a hand on my lower back.

"Shall we?"

I gave Jonathan a look that could kill before pulling myself away from his hand. "Sure."

He chuckled slightly and looked to be in thought for a moment. Then he led me past cells and doors, until we entered the dining hall. It was a pretty good sized room with twelve tables. He took me to a table in one corner of the room.

"I thought you'd appreciate being able to see everything and everyone."

I smirked at the fact that we were on the only people in the room.

"By everyone, I was referring to when people actually come down for supper. They'll get released in five minutes."

"Released?"

"The guards press a button and all of the glass goes up and everyone wanders down here."

"And you know it's five minutes...how?"

He leaned towards me and then pointed to a clock, one of the older ones that still tick, tick, ticks. It was a great feeling to actually be able to have the anchor of time right there as opposed to just floating around the asylum outside of anything tangible. It was about five 'til six.

"Hungry?"

"Meh."

"Are you going to eat?"

"I don't know."

"Don't you normally eat?"

"Yeah. But before in the cells if you didn't eat, they'd give you a beating and make you eat. So I guess I have no choice unless the rules have changed."

"Wouldn't you be afraid of starving? Or being too weak to protect yourself?"

"Not really. I don't really care."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Nothing? Nothing my ass. He was thinking something over in his head and I wanted to know what it was. Then again, it was probably just about how fucked up I was. But then again...he was also here in the looney bin. So just _what_ was he thinking?


End file.
